Week 07: Alli Cruz
unpeeled
i ran across the field after class
laid down a banana peel on the grass
said i bet it isn’t even that slippery
to my friend who laughed when
i slipped
the bed of grass cut against
my upper thighs unpeeled
a soft layer of skin
i laughed
when he first touched the site of the bruise
gone by then didn’t hurt but
i still felt it
the back seat cut into the back
somehow i slipped into his wet dream
implication of a body slipping inside
the car door
i liked
i think
i liked when he left
the car
reeking
of rotted orange
i drove home with the windows
down by the high school
i walked barefoot on the turf
black beads of plastic to my heels
when i came home i still felt pieces
slip inside
my white
socks
i wore again when he fucked against
his bedroom wall
i slipped the side door when his mom
into the driveway
i pulled
every time he tried to grip the sides of
my throat in public he laughed
as if we were children playing
his favorite tag
it is slippery, i thought he slid my body
against the grass one night it is so, so slippery so
i laughed
i laughed
i laughed i
Alli Cruz is a Filipino-Cuban American poet studying English & Creative Writing at Stanford University. Alli is a Levinthal scholar and a poetry reader for Pleiades. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in F(r)iction and The Louisville Review. Currently, she is the Literary Manager for Stanford Asian American Theatre Project.